Independence Day

4 July 2025: The bad guys can't take the Fourth of July or patriotism away from us. 

Did the day right: town parade this morning, low-key afternoon, and a night at the ballpark complete with fireworks.

(Amy took the picture of the back of my head; I kind of like it even though I said, "look at all that white hair!)

"Olga"

3 July 2024: “That summer she was elected to carry the flag of the United States in the opening ceremonies. The American Olympic Committee tried to strip her of the honor—they didn’t like her outspoken opposition to the Vietnam War—but her teammates weren’t having any of it. The Soviet flagbearer walked the track carrying his flag in one hand, a show of strength in more ways than one. So, Olga did the same thing. She would say it was the proudest moment of her life.” 

Listened to this episode of The Memory Palace this morning and found so much of it memorable and moving. But the passage above really got to me; our current political moment is almost unbelievable, but Olga's story just makes clear why this current turmoil matters. We've got to get it right to be the nation that people like Olga devoted their adult lives to, even (especially!) when it is hard. We just have to. 

Election Day

8 November 2022: When will Election Day not fill me with existential dread? Anyway, here's a poem that helped me today even as it makes me sob.

"I hear America singing"

7 November 2020: We did it. Overcome with joy and hope, even though the road ahead will be so hard. 

Tell em, Walt!

201...

31 May 2020:

"I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand to dress wounds,
I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,
One turns to me his appealing eyes—poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you." --Whitman, "The Wound Dresser"

One year ago, we celebrated Walt's 200th birthday with joy and optimism. Today, as my country is in such pain and turmoil and the darkness seems unending, I keep thinking about these lines from "The Wound Dresser." Whitman's speaker repeatedly goes to his knees in the face of such pain--an image that resonates so powerfully today--and is determined to do what he can. There, on his knees, he is better able to serve and help, but he is also humbled, in the gesture of seeking supplication and perhaps even of prayer.

He's also not a soldier; he is old, with creaking knees, and arriving after the fight. The fight isn't his, but of course it is.

So yeah...thinking about it a lot today.

"Raise a glass to freedom / Something they can never take away..."

Pro-tip: enjoy social media coverage of so many amazing Americans (including many of your loved ones) marching today while listening to Hamilton. Your heart will swell with even more pride and hope and love. Side effects include lots of teary eyed moments, but that's okay.

"America, you great unfinished symphony..."

9 November 2016: Yesterday, I sat with my finger over the "publish" button for several minutes before publishing the day's post. It was the post's title that was hanging me up. It's so relentlessly positive. And I kept thinking, "But what if she doesn't win? Will I still feel that way?" I thought about hedging my bets a bit and going with the original post title ("History..."). But in the end, I left it as is. It was, I think, a sign of stubborn faith in this country and its people. I told myself, even if he does win, I will still feel that way about my country: We are lucky to be alive right now in this world, in this moment. Because we have the power to love and hope and pray and change and get work done.

One of my favorite literary critics, Sacvan Bercovitch, writes about the power and flexibility of American ideology. ("America, you great unfinished symphony...") For better or worse, it tells us we are always on our way to becoming the thing we are supposed to come. It tells us that dissent is actually assent, a way of staying in the system, working from within to make it better. Those ideas are sometimes problematic, but today, I find them comforting.

So yeah: lots of writers are running through my head today--Thoreau, Whitman, Alcott, and of course, Miranda. They, too, bring comfort.

I am so very sad and anxious. But I am also determined and hopeful. I think that those feelings--determination and hope, in all their messiness--are today's good things. But to stick to the rules, I am going to go with that line from Hamilton... It feels right and soothes my soul. Let's get to work, America.*

*Yup: the last episode of Angel, too, continues to come to mind when I need it to. (See #1 on the list in this post.)

Veteran's Day Links

Just in time for Veteran's Day, take a look at "Ian Fisher, American Soldier," a photo essay capturing 27 months in the life of a young serviceman.

After that, you know you'll want to check out this collection of soldiers' dogs welcoming their owners home from overseas. (I've linked to one of them back in October 2008).

Fourth of July

It's been a very quiet Independence Day here, but a good one. I did wander out (in my car) tonight, searching for some fireworks to watch. (I love fireworks.) I didn't want to wrestle with the traffic near the big Martinsburg City-sponsored fireworks, but figured I might be able to see some of the smaller amateur shows. (Fireworks are legal in this state, unlike NY where I grew up, and I am still amazed at the kinds of things ordinary folks can set off.) Anyway, I pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket really close to my house when I saw that some people were shooting off some pretty decent fireworks in a clearing just beyond the store. But here's the cool part: as luck would have it (and this was total dumb luck) that particular spot had a clear view of the city's big fireworks. So I sat there and watched them--over 30 minutes of pretty impressive stuff. It was strange: part of me was a bit down about watching alone, but part of me also loved it.

Anyway, here's a poem that seems sort of appropriate for today. I found it (you guessed it) on the "Poem of the Day" podcast not too long ago. There's also a great audio version here.

"Facing It"

by Yusef Komunyakaa

My black face fades,
hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn't,
dammit: No tears.
I'm stone. I'm flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me
like a bird of prey, the profile of night
slanted against morning. I turn
this way—the stone lets me go.
I turn that way—I'm inside
the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
again, depending on the light
to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names,
half-expecting to find
my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap's white flash.
Names shimmer on a woman's blouse
but when she walks away
the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's
wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white vet's image floats
closer to me, then his pale eyes
look through mine. I'm a window.
He's lost his right arm
inside the stone. In the black mirror
a woman’s trying to erase names:
No, she's brushing a boy's hair.

A great day for America...

...no matter who you voted for.


This is one of my favorite pictures of our President-elect. I know it's a bit of an anvil over the head as far as symbols go, but let's face it: it works. This guy works hard, gets results, and keeps his cool. And through it all, he just seems so genuine and authentic.

He's got my support because he's my President..or he will be in a few hours. I wish him nothing but success.

(By the way, the picture comes from a very cool collection you can find here.)

Undeliverable mail...

Via Andrew Sullivan, a devastating reminder of the war in Afghanistan--something we don't talk about nearly enough these days.

Makes me think of Melville's Bartleby toiling away in the dead letter office: "On errands of life, these letters speed to death. Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!"

What unites us...

On 9/11, it's worth remembering what unites us, instead of what divides us.



Crossing the George Washington Bridge on Labor Day, 2008 on the way back to WV.

About last night...

No matter your party affiliation, you can't deny that a bit of history was made last night (despite Senator Clinton's destructive delusions that this thing isn't over yet). Over at Andrew Sullivan's Daily Dish, readers have been sending in their responses. Here are two that I found particularly moving:

1) "Tomorrow I will go to the African American cemetery outside of Chicago where my great-grandparents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, neighbors, and my mother and father are buried. And I will tell them that they were right -- that if we studied hard, worked hard, kept the faith, fought for justice, prayed, that this day would come.

And it has."

2) "My grandfather, 86 years old and a veteran of WWII, just gave me a call. He was calling all of his grandchildren to let them know what an important night this was in the history of our country.

Grandpa drove a truck for over 50 years, and he told the story of how he drove with a team of drivers, 2 white (including him), and 4 black. When they stopped at the truck stops, the black drivers had to use separate restrooms and showers, and had to eat in a small room in the back of the kitchen. Grandpa and his co-driver would eat in the back with the rest of the team, and while they didn't speak of it at the time, they knew it was wrong yet felt powerless to change it, and believed that it would never change.

Tonight, he told me, we have come full-circle. Many people, especially the younger generation who supported Obama, will never fully realize the historical import of what happened tonight. But he wanted his grandchildren to know this story that he had never told us, and it was the second time in my 33 years that I have heard my grandpa cry."

Yesterday, I taught The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass and selections from Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin in English 204. What would they--especially Douglass--have to say about how far we've come in American politics? Today in class, we discussed that great American poet, Walt Whitman. How perfect, right? Consider what Whitman writes in the Preface to Leaves of Grass:

"The Americans of all nations at any time upon the earth have probably the fullest poetical nature. The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem. In the history of the earth hitherto the largest and most stirring appear tame and orderly to their ampler largeness and stir. Here at last is something in the doings of man that corresponds with the broadcast doings of the day and night. Here is not merely a nation but a teeming nation of nations. Here is action untied from strings necessarily blind to particulars and details magnificently moving in vast masses. Here is the hospitality which forever indicates heroes . . ."

Again, Republican, Democrat, whatever you are--you have reason to smile today and be extra proud to be an American.

Memorial Day

I won't even try to be eloquent here...I'll just provide some links that have genuinely moved me this Memorial Day Weekend.

• An audio slideshow from CNN.com; sounds and images from Arlington Cemetery.
• A piece from yesterday's Sunday Morning on CBS, also about Arlington.
• Another slideshow from CNN.com, this one an iReport in which ordinary people send in images and stories about the soldiers in their families who lost their lives.
• A story about Merlin German, the "Miracle Marine," who died a few weeks ago.
• And finally, links to a couple of poems that have been on my mind as well: Whitman's "Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night" and "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd." I know the second is more about Lincoln than soldiers in general, but it is a beautiful poem about America, life, death, mourning, renewal and hope.

"There is a green light beyond the green light."

One last catch-up post for today, on yet another article I've been meaning to link to. This one is on Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby and its continuing influence on high school students.

Some key passages...

From a teacher reflecting on why her students respond to the book:
“'They all understand what it is to strive for something,” said Susan Moran, who is the director of the English program at Boston Latin and who has been teaching “Gatsby” for 32 years, starting at South Boston High School, “to want to be someone you’re not, to want to achieve something that’s just beyond reach, whether it’s professional success or wealth or idealized love — or a 4.0 or admission to Harvard.'”

Okay--this one just made me laugh. From a student comparing the character of Daisy to a modern-day celebrity:
"As for Daisy, in Vimin’s view: 'She’s turned into an empty person. Like Paris Hilton.'”

From a recent immigrant to the United States, who realizes the difficulty of actually achieving the American dream:
“'The journey toward the dream is the most important thing,' she said. And, she added, 'There is a green light beyond the green light.'”

Sounds like a smart student, right?

Maybe I should teach Gatsby in ENG 204 one of these semesters. It's certainly short enough (a unfortunate but important consideration for this course). Plus, "The American Dream" is one of the themes I frequently emphasize in my American lit. survey classes. Of course, most students have read it in high school, so it might not be the best choice.

How young is too young...

...for a lesson in American history from Dr. Tante Heidi? As soon as I spotted this statue of Thomas Jefferson sitting on a bench in Williamsburg, I ushered the kids over there and let them climb all over him.



I like this next one (despite the blurriness resulting from Colin being on the move) because of the way Olivia is looking at Jefferson. There's some great symbolism there: the kid born in another country looking at one of our founding fathers. She's too young to understand just how lucky she is to have gotten to come to the nation that Jefferson and his contemporaries built, but she'll know soon enough. That's also incredibly corny of me to note, but I can't help myself.



This next one cracks me up because Colin is patting Jefferson on the back. More symbolism, I think.